BMW is famously Bavarian, but one of the biggest heroes in its history wasn’t German at all – he was Italian. Giovanni Michelotti was an Italian car designer who, despite not being a household name, had a profound impact on BMW’s fortunes in the 1950s and 60s. In fact, with his designs he practically saved BMW from oblivion. Friendly and unassuming by reputation, Michelotti brought a touch of Turin’s style to Munich’s cars, helping transform BMW from a struggling automaker into the dynamic brand we know today. Along the way, he proved that a little Italian flair could rescue a German icon – a story filled with unlikely collaborations, clever design work, and even a few humorous twists.
BMW in the 1950s: A Company in Crisis
To appreciate Michelotti’s impact, let’s set the stage. In the late 1950s, BMW was in serious trouble. Their luxury V8 models like the 503 coupe and 507 roadster were gorgeous but sold in tiny numbers, and the little egg-shaped Isetta microcar (a glorified scooter with a door) made virtually no profit. BMW desperately needed something in between – a car that was neither too expensive nor too comically small. They tried once with the BMW 600 (a stretched Isetta with four seats), but that too flopped. Financial losses mounted, and time was running out. There was even talk of a Daimler-Benz takeover, as BMW’s boardroom drama peaked around 1959. It was the perfect recipe for disaster: an automaker with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel (or perhaps on a slippery bratwurst, given the locale).
BMW wasn’t completely sitting idle – they sought help from renowned Italian coachbuilders to reshape their cars. Even before the crisis, BMW had flirted with Italian design. In 1955 they unveiled the BMW 505 prototype, a large prestigious limousine styled by a young Giovanni Michelotti and built by Swiss coachbuilder Ghia-Aigle. This sleek “505 Pullman” was BMW’s attempt to impress dignitaries – literally, as West German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer was invited to try it out. Unfortunately, when Adenauer climbed in, he promptly knocked his hat off on the low door frame. Unamused, the Chancellor stuck with his Mercedes 300 (a car that would famously be nicknamed the “Adenauer Mercedes”), and BMW’s grand 505 never went into production. Only two prototypes were built – a humorous footnote to BMW’s woes, and a sign that even Michelotti’s stylish touch couldn’t yet sway the fate of the brand.
Michelotti to the Rescue: The BMW 700 – Small Car, Big Impact
BMW’s salvation would come not from a grand limousine, but from the humblest of categories: a small economy car. The turning point began with Wolfgang Denzel, BMW’s Austrian importer, who had a keen sense of what might sell. In 1958, seeing BMW’s dire state, Denzel suggested that the company build a new small car on the bones of the failed 600, but with a far more attractive design. For that crucial design, Denzel turned to Giovanni Michelotti. Michelotti agreed to sketch a compact family car using an enlarged BMW 600 platform – and the result was nothing short of revolutionary for BMW. Unveiled at the Frankfurt Motor Show in September 1959, the BMW 700 made its debut and immediately captured the public’s imagination.
What was so special about the 700? For starters, it looked modern, cute, and sporty – a far cry from the frumpy bubble-car aesthetics of the Isetta. Michelotti’s design gave the 700 clean lines and a cheerful, balanced shape. (He even initially omitted BMW’s trademark “kidney” grilles for a sleeker face, though BMW ultimately made sure their beloved kidneys appeared on the production cars – one of the few times BMW said “no grazie” to Michelotti’s personal touch!) The 700 was offered as a two-door saloon and a stylish little coupé, both with an air-cooled two-cylinder engine in the rear. It was no powerhouse – just 697cc and about 32 horsepower – but it was lightweight and had superb handling for its size. In fact, the 700’s chassis was so good that it made this “pint-sized” BMW genuinely fun to drive, with agile cornering that embarrassed many larger cars. Drivers found it “a small car with many big-car features,” as one contemporary review put it.
The real magic, however, was in the marketplace. The 700 was an instant hit. BMW dealers suddenly had a product that practically sold itself. At its debut show, 15,000 orders were taken from German customers, with another 10,000 orders from the United States – all within days. Demand was so high that within a year, the 700 accounted for nearly 60% of BMW’s entire turnover (most of the rest was still the lingering Isetta). For a company on the brink of bankruptcy, this was nothing short of miraculous. The little car also proved profitable, proving that BMW could actually make money on a small model – a lesson they hadn’t learned with the cheap-to-buy but costly-to-build Isetta. In total, BMW built over 188,000 units of the 700, including a limited-run convertible, between 1959 and 1965. It might have been “largely forgotten” by later generations, but contemporary BMW insiders knew that the 700 had saved the company from likely oblivion. As automotive author Richard Dredge noted, by 1962 the 700’s success provided BMW with the cash and confidence to develop an all-new line of cars – and had the 700 not been so successful, BMW might have “disappeared forever,” which now seems incredible. In short, Michelotti’s little creation kept BMW’s heart beating at a moment when it was about to flatline.
Of course, being the modest hero he was, Michelotti didn’t gloat or bask in fame. The BMW 700’s styling wasn’t attributed to him in the public eye the way, say, a Ferrari’s design might be credited to Pininfarina. But inside BMW, his contribution was deeply appreciated. The Bavarians had learned that Italian design prowess could be the secret sauce to their success. The collaboration was just getting started, and bigger things were on the horizon.
The “Neue Klasse”: Designing BMW’s New Identity
With the 700 buying BMW a new lease on life, the company wasted no time planning its future. The next step was something far more ambitious: a new line of modern sport sedans to redefine the brand. This program became known as the “Neue Klasse” (German for “New Class”), and it would solidify BMW’s identity for decades to come. Naturally, Giovanni Michelotti was again at the center of the action. In fact, BMW’s chief designer Wilhelm Hofmeister (he of the famous “Hofmeister kink” in the rear windows) leaned on Michelotti’s ideas to shape these new cars. Hofmeister commissioned Michelotti to draft designs for a new four-door family sedan – essentially asking the Italian maestro, “What should the modern BMW look like?”.
Michelotti delivered. The first Neue Klasse model, the BMW 1500 sedan, debuted in 1962 with a crisp, shark-nosed look that was light-years ahead of BMW’s old 1950s offerings. Here was a car with a fresh face and sporty proportions: a forward-leaning front grille stance, a three-box shape with taut lines, and an overall minimalist elegance. It was a clean break from the past – the previous BMW sedan (the 501/502 “Baroque Angel”) was so old-fashioned and bloated that it “looked old the day it was born,” as one commentator quipped. In contrast, the new 1500 looked bang up-to-date, the embodiment of a compact European sports saloon. It had a lively 1.5-liter engine, independent suspension, and excellent road manners – all packaged within Michelotti’s modern skin. This design set the template for BMW’s sedans going forward: understated but purposeful, with an emphasis on driving dynamics.
Most importantly, the Neue Klasse arrived “just in time to save BMW” again during a moment of peril. By 1962, as the 1500 was hitting showrooms, BMW’s management was still fending off that potential Daimler-Benz takeover and convincing investors they had a viable future. The New Class cars provided the proof. They sold well and turned BMW’s image around – from a company known for either tiny microcars or overly extravagant V8 cruisers, BMW suddenly became known for sporty, driver-oriented family cars. Historian Jackie Jouret notes that Michelotti’s designs for the 700 and the 1500 made an “invaluable contribution to BMW’s survival” at the start of the 1960s. The success of the 1500 (quickly followed by the 1800 and 1600 sedans, and later the 2000 sedan) put BMW on firm financial footing, allowing the company to expand its lineup further. In essence, Michelotti had handed BMW a new identity on a silver platter: they were now the makers of some of Europe’s most appealing sport sedans, a niche they could call their own.
It’s worth noting that Michelotti’s involvement in the Neue Klasse wasn’t always front-and-center publicly. BMW did have in-house designers (people like Hofmeister and his team) refining and putting the finishing touches on the cars. In the case of the 1500 sedan, Michelotti provided the initial work and styling themes, which BMW’s staff then extrapolated into the production four-door. The end product still clearly carried Michelotti’s DNA – observers noted the familial resemblance to the little 700, just scaled up and more mature. The continuity was deliberate: BMW wanted buyers to recognize the sporty face of the 700 evolving across the lineup. This design continuity paid off. The Neue Klasse sedans were a hit, and they spawned a whole family of derivatives which Michelotti also had a hand in.
From 2002s to Coupés: An Italian Imprint on Every Nook of BMW
Success breeds success, and soon BMW was filling every niche with a Michelotti-flavored creation. In 1966, BMW took the Neue Klasse platform and spun off a two-door sporty version – what would become the legendary BMW 02 Series (the name “02” coming from the “2002” model, a 2-door 2-liter). Who did they tap for styling the 02 series? You guessed it: Michelotti. In fact, Michelotti is credited with the design of the original BMW 1600-2 (1966) and the now-iconic BMW 2002 (1968), among others. These compact two-door cars, with their nimble handling and youthful image, were like the feisty younger siblings of the sedans. They further cemented BMW’s reputation for driving fun. The 2002 in particular became an icon of the late 1960s – a car that brought BMW worldwide acclaim and can be seen as the ancestor of today’s 3 Series. Michelotti’s touch was evident in the 02’s tidy proportions and sporty stance. He even crafted a unique variation: the 2000 Touring, a fastback/hatchback version of the 02 series, which added a dash of versatility to the sporty coupe in the early 1970s. (It turns out Michelotti was ahead of the curve – he effectively designed one of BMW’s first hatchbacks!)
Michelotti’s influence extended to BMW’s larger models as well. As the 1960s progressed, BMW developed its first modern six-cylinder luxury sedans (the **2500/2800, later known as the Bavaria or “New Six” series) and a gorgeous grand touring coupé (the 6-cylinder 2800 CS, which evolved into the 3.0 CS/CSi coupe). While BMW engaged other Italian designers for input on these – notably *Nuccio Bertone’s studio, where a young Marcello Gandini contributed a design study for the large sedan – Michelotti was also consulted for these upscale models. In fact, BMW initially had Michelotti work up proposals alongside Bertone’s team for the six-cylinder sedan project coded E3. Ultimately, BMW’s management chose Gandini’s proposal for the production sedan, meaning Michelotti’s design wasn’t fully used on the 2500/2800 series. One could imagine a friendly rivalry: Michelotti vs. Gandini, the man who styled the Lamborghini Miura, vying to shape BMW’s flagship! Michelotti might have “lost” that round, but even then the final car carried some of the clean, graceful lines that were hallmarks of his approach. Likewise, the beautiful E9 coupés (1968–1975) – which began with the 2800 CS – were heavily based on earlier BMW styling themes that Michelotti had helped establish (their predecessor, the 2000 CS, was a Michelotti-influenced design developed from the New Class sedan platform). So even where Michelotti wasn’t the sole author, his fingerprints were often on the clay models somewhere. By the late ’60s, virtually every BMW model – from the tiniest 700 to the sportiest 2002, from the family 1500 sedan to the range-topping 3.0 CS coupe – bore “Michelotti’s imprint, to a greater or lesser degree,” as Jouret puts it. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet of Bavarian machines, and Michelotti had cooked up half the dishes!
Anecdotally, Michelotti remained a humble figure through all of this. He wasn’t an egotistical designer chasing fame; he was more of a behind-the-scenes craftsman. He worked with many brands (Triumph in the UK, for example, was another of his big clients), so he didn’t tie his identity to BMW exclusively. Perhaps that’s why his name isn’t as loudly celebrated at BMW as, say, Paul Bracq or Chris Bangle (who later led BMW design). But make no mistake – insiders knew who to thank for BMW’s 1960s turnaround. As one forum commenter wryly noted, if you drove a BMW 1500 or 2002 back in the day, you were basically enjoying an Italian-designed car in German disguise. Michelotti had given BMW “sport sedan” DNA that would define the brand’s look for years. Even into the 1980s, elements of BMW’s design language (the forward-leaning nose, the subtle curves along the sides, the delicate balance of aggression and elegance) traced back to Michelotti’s work, refined further by others over time.
The Turbo and Beyond: Final BMW Collaboration
By the early 1970s, BMW had grown from a near-bankrupt niche player into a serious luxury-sport automaker. They had also begun building up their own in-house design talent. In 1970, BMW hired French designer Paul Bracq as head of design, signaling that the era of relying on outside freelancers like Michelotti was winding down. But Michelotti’s relationship with BMW wasn’t over just yet. In a delightful twist, even as new designers took the pen, Michelotti’s coachbuilding skills came into play.
In 1972, BMW planned to unveil a radical concept car – the BMW Turbo, a gull-winged mid-engine sports car prototype (the forefather of the BMW M1). The Turbo was styled by Paul Bracq and was meant to showcase new technology and celebrate the 1972 Munich Olympics. However, BMW needed someone to actually build the working prototypes of this exotic machine. Who did they turn to? None other than Giovanni Michelotti’s workshop in Turin. Michelotti’s team built both of the Turbo concept cars for BMW, translating Bracq’s wild design into reality. It was a fitting capstone to the collaboration: Michelotti didn’t design the Turbo, but he ensured the futuristic show car saw the light of day (with perfect Italian craftsmanship, naturally). The Turbo prototypes caused a sensation at the Paris and Frankfurt shows in 1972–73. One might imagine Michelotti smiling as he put the finishing touches on those bright orange gull-winged bodies – an Italian coachbuilder helping BMW flirt with the future. This would be one of Michelotti’s last direct involvements with BMW, as the company’s design direction moved in-house thereafter. Still, it showed the immense trust and respect BMW had for Michelotti: even when he wasn’t drawing their cars, they relied on him to build their most daring concepts.
Legacy and Conclusion
Giovanni Michelotti’s collaboration with BMW is the stuff of legend, even if it’s not a story everyone knows. Here was an independent Italian designer who stepped in at BMW’s darkest hour and provided the company with exactly what it needed: a new design direction that could capture buyers’ hearts and wallets. From the lovable BMW 700 that “saved BMW from oblivion”, to the trend-setting New Class sedans that gave BMW its brand identity, Michelotti’s work was pivotal. He didn’t do it alone – BMW’s engineers and executives had to build the engines, find the money, and make the strategic calls – but it’s telling that when BMW lists the great minds that shaped its history, Michelotti’s name shines bright in the 1950s and 60s. His sporty, elegant design language became the blueprint for BMW’s success.
Michelotti himself remained somewhat under the radar (fittingly, he’s been called “the greatest automobile designer you’ve never heard of” by some enthusiasts). He wasn’t flashy in the press, and he never officially joined BMW’s staff. Instead, he let his designs do the talking – and boy, did they talk. They spoke of a fusion between Italian style and German substance, of a company that could be saved not by cutting costs or copying competitors, but by innovative design and product appeal. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect is just how many different BMW models Michelotti touched in roughly two decades of collaboration. Tiny bubble cars, spunky coupes, sedans of all sizes, luxury GTs – his portfolio was like a greatest-hits album of 1960s BMWs.
In a friendly, almost poetic sense, one could say Michelotti gave BMW the confidence to be the best version of itself. He showed them that good design could capture imaginations and open pocketbooks. And he did it all while staying in the background, a bit like a silent partner. Without him, BMW in the 1970s might very well have ended up as a subsidiary of Mercedes or perhaps gone under entirely – a thought that likely sends shivers down any BMW fan’s spine. So the next time you see a classic BMW 2002 whipping around a corner or a vintage Neue Klasse sedan at a car show, remember to give a little nod to Giovanni Michelotti. This Italian designer helped save the “Ultimate Driving Machine” before it even knew what it was destined to be. He may have traded pasta for pretzels and wine for beer during his partnership with BMW, but the result was a perfect recipe for an automotive comeback – one that’s equal parts friendly collaboration, professional excellence, and a dash of cross-cultural fun. After all, who says Italians and Bavarians can’t get along? In the case of BMW, that unlikely duo turned out to be magnifico.
Sources: Giovanni Michelotti’s contributions to BMW’s models and success are documented in historical accounts and archives. The BMW 700’s development and impact (including Denzel’s role and the car’s sales figures) are well-covered in automotive histories. Michelotti’s work on the Neue Klasse and 02 Series is noted in BMW’s own historical retrospectives. The anecdote of the BMW 505 and Konrad Adenauer is recorded in BMW archives and Wikipedia. Michelotti’s involvement in building the 1972 Turbo concept is also recorded in BMW’s concept car history. All these sources underscore how Michelotti’s design genius was crucial in shaping BMW’s destiny during the mid-20th century, effectively saving the Bavarian brand when it mattered most.
